To Have Been Loved
by Anrheithwyr
Summary: 'To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever' -J.K. Rowling His parents were gone, but a part of them was still there with him.


_**For the 'Inspirational Quotes Competition' by Teddy-Lupin Snape. (See quote below.) **_

_**Also for the 'If You Dare Challenge' by Slytherin Cat, using prompt # 214, life goes on. **_

_**For the 'HP Potions Competition' by Black Boxed, using **__**Drink of Despair**__** – Write about someone who is plagued by a horrible memory. **_

….

_'To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever' -J.K. Rowling_

….

Harry woke up screaming. Loud, piercing noise that hurt his ears; silent, muffled nothingness. He screamed for help, and yet, there was no noise, his breath coming out ragged. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped and choked, his fists clenching and unclenching, his nails biting into the skin of his palm. There were tears mixed with the sweat, tears of pure desperation as he tried to forget. Harry clung to his to pillow, trying to force his dreams away. He hated the night, hated the loneliness of being solely with his thoughts and nightmares. Especially the nightmares that had been threatening to swallow him up whole the past few weeks.

_Cedric, screaming silently in surprise. Bright, bright green light, flashing. He had seen that light before. A body hitting the grass. Cold, cruel laughter. A voice, taunting him, telling him to fight like a man. Scratches all over, a gaping cut in his forearm, where the knife had cut him. Pettigrew, Wormtail, skirting the area nervously, clearly not excited about being so close to Harry. Death Eaters all around him, mocking and laughing at him. His mum and dad and Cedric, gathered around him, telling him he was okay, that he was doing the right thing. He always woke up just as the green light reached out to touch him again, a snakelike face smirking at him. _

He huddled tightly on his bed, wishing that he could just go one _damn _night without waking up in terror. All the time, these sorts of things seemed to haunt his dreams, making him cry out silently, desperately clinging to some sort of pain in his heart. In his room, it was dark, and the boy cried without any noise, angry at himself. Why wasn't he able to just get over this? Why was he still suffering every night, watching his fellow student die over and over? It wasn't _fair_, he didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to constantly be running from his nightmares. _Life goes on_, yet he didn't seem able to get over anything.

Harry, scowling deeply, got to his feet, and began pacing. It had been nearly two months, and he still woke up in a sweat, terrified of the darkness that was swallowing him. He had spent two months having the exact dream and feeling like an idiot when he woke up with stifled sobs. If Hermione and Ron's letters were anything to go by, _they _weren't too broken up about everything. _They didn't watch him die. They didn't promise to bring his dead body back. They didn't face him, not like you. _He growled loudly, and suddenly, his hand was swinging at the end table; several items clattered to the floor, including a wooden picture frame.

Harry bent over, picking up the picture frame, which was luckily, not cracked. It was one of the many photographs of his mum and dad, of the two of them looking so happy as they stood with each other, leaves gathering in his mum's hair. It had clearly been an intimate moment between the two, one that always made Harry feel a little bit better, as if he were with them in the photo. Sometimes it was a little hard, dealing with the nightmares and not having anyone to turn to. His uncle had certainly been no help, and Remus and Sirius seemed a bit distant recently.

Looking around at his room, Harry sighed, not as angry before, though still not content. He could still see Cedric's empty eyes begging for help, but the vague memories of his parents were also there in his head. He set the picture back on the dresser, and flopped back onto his bed, wondering if this would ever go away, if he would ever feel better about everything that had happened. In the graveyard….with his parents…Harry had gotten a glimpse of what it might have been to have parents, his mum and dad standing by him, supporting him. He could still recall the two of them in the Mirror of Erised, encouraging him. It had felt nice in the graveyard, despite the stress of the moment, to have his parents by his side.

Harry hadn't known his parent for almost his entire life, and he had almost no idea what they looked like, except for vague memories and photographs. He couldn't remember his mother's comforting voice, or his dad's warm hug. He didn't recall having ever been told 'I love you' by either of them, or having been told they were proud of him. Harry didn't remember his parents, and that dark part of his life was eating into him; yet sometimes, he still felt as if his parents were with him, like they were a part of him. Harry smiled up at the ceiling, imagining his parents there with him, telling him they loved him. After all, they were gone, but they weren't _entirely gone_. Not really, not in his mind.

_Because life goes on, but our loved ones never leave. _


End file.
